The Outfit
by I-AM-A-BLANKET
Summary: It's a boring, no work day, and Sherlock has an outfit he wants John's opinion on. John's POV. For now it's a one shot, might do a second installment if I feel like it. I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK. But I wish I did.


You were sitting in your flat, sipping on the freshly brewed coffee and reading that latest news that the paper brought. It was a surprisingly quite day for the Scotland Yard so you decided to just stay at your flat and relax.

"I assume that there is nothing of interest in there."

"You would be correct." Without looking, you answered your flat-mate. "And I assume that you knew that due to the bored expression on my face?"

"That and I read the paper before you." Sherlock clarified. "You know John; I have something more interesting over here, if you'd be interested. I have a matter I need your opinion on"

"And what would that be?" You asked, quickly glancing at him then back at your paper, before you did a double take.

"What do you think about my outfit?"

You were surprised he could even call it an outfit. As far as you knew, the only thing that clothed him was a light blue colored blanket. However; you couldn't help but notice how well it draped him, leaving his smooth shoulders bare and wrapping around his lithe waist, bunched in the front held loosely by one hand, the rest cascading down and pooling around his feet. It was extremely close to the 'outfit' (You simply couldn't think of it without quotations) he wore when he met the Queen.

Working your eyes back up to his face, you noted how dry your lips were and licked them, only afterwards thinking of the message it might give off. When you arrived back at his face, you noticed it was blank and tilted slightly, as if he were seriously and innocently asking for your opinion. But with his eyes mischievously gleaming, you knew better.

In an attempt to compose yourself, you leaned down a picked up the neglected newspaper from the ground where you had dropped it. "Well Sherlock, it's interesting, to say the least."

"How so?"

He asked that, but you knew he already knew the answer to that question. It was interesting in the way that you wanted to take it off of him and explore the new found skin with your hands and claim it forever yours with your lips.

Wait. Did you really just think that?

You, John Watson, the one who continually mention his heterosexuality and constantly insistent that he was not, in fact, gay? And it was at that very moment you realized that you had grown close to this man. Closer than neither you nor anybody else ever thought that you would. Sherlock Holmes, the man whom ever since you first met got you into trouble, nitpicked at you with his deductive reasoning, and who caused you great emotional turmoil.

Yet you couldn't help but fall in love with him. You couldn't deny the fact that his deductive reasoning was amazing, nor that he often saved you from whatever trouble he caused. He was an amazing friend, but you felt as if you wanted to be more than that. Some may call you greedy, but you wanted to be more that Sherlock's only friend, best friend at that, you wanted to be his lover. You wanted to hold him and whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

But what if he didn't feel the same? What if you ruined the best thing you'd ever have because you were greedy? What if-?

"John?" Sherlock's voice brought you out of your thoughts, ringing with a teasing undertone.

You sighed before beginning. "I'll be honest with you Sherlock-"

"I'd like that." He interrupted.

You paused and gave him a look before he motioned that you could continue. "I'll be honest, you outfit is flattering. So much so, in fact, that I can't help but get the urge to jump up and kiss you right now."

The slight smirk that had danced upon his lips was gone. You knew it, you had done it.

Sherlock approached you, in a short but brisk pace. You could hear his light footsteps draw closer until they stopped in front of you.

You were going to have to go pack your things and leave. You buried your face in your hands as if trying to hide. Gently, you could feel a nimble finger and thumb being placed on your chin, carefully guiding you to look up.

And look up you did, straight into the gleaming bright green eyes of the man you loved. His once blank face was once again covered in a handsome smirk.

"I thought you'd never ask."


End file.
